the silk spun of a winter morn a slight of grey weighs – up on over the land a sheer coat of form from that of man across earth herself a pause- the luster of slumber frost
notes… woke up this morning (seems obvious), grabbed my cup of joe from the kcup kiosk installed in my kitchen (starbucks columbia in my uber fancy yeti travel mug – sheesh I’m a coffee dork), throwing my stuff in the car, the phone, the clipboard with all my nonesuch, and I notice it, that perfect coating, that sprayed on amazing coating of frost across the lawn and all the eyes (barely open) can take in, such perfection, sure, it’s damn cold, twenty degrees ain’t no joke, but even in the grip of all this, the little shimmering reflections all around, so I reflected on it for a moment, and this is what I found…
kiss of a sunset to quiet the gears that grind I shall remember
behind a grand tree light slides in the afternoon I take a deep breath
kiss of a sunset absorbs all my creation palms cleansed by water
and shall I count now each of these unto my lips for never lasting
notes… OK… sometimes I snuggle up to haiku… basho is awesome I must admit, I am usually mr. freeform but sometimes something triggers that itch of the japanese verse variety… work was dragging… I could feel it drowning me (my fault), looked out the window, the sun was setting (early this time of year) right behind a big old tree and some buildings, and it gave me pause… and a reprieve, silver linings indeed…
tonight the temp is just right cold enough to be colder than I can just smell the sweet leaves that fell wet so many more to go but this line between seasons in change I lament the summer but feel ready for fall prepared by all the signals my mind is made ready standing-waiting in a train station stop waiting to board the transition on
notes… just walked outside, my windows are open but I am not getting inside this lovely wave of fall air, refreshment indeed in some sense, not reprieve from a scorching day, more like comfort in a perfect blanket zone, comfortable, soothing, but yet hints of fall, the slightly sweet smell of rotting leaves, dying leaves, the intoxicating sweet smell of decay, hinted, and the cricket choir is still living, and loud, but not as much or so much, some what subdued, like the temperature, a bull tamed, a wild horse tamed but yet will fade away into the cold, but right now that feels OK, no, it feels fantastic, relief… sweet belief. oh yeah, and this was something I just wrote in my head when I stepped outside, so, that is what it is, kind of haiku feel…
the wind, is an overture roaring, under conductor, like an inward ocean learned cresting and breaking among the trees I listen for the conversation creaks as if, to contemplate them but even foreign songs have a tell and perhaps my earth memory is quelled, a spring day that presents more like september brilliant blue sky that belies the weather bamboo leaves flipping spinning like an old duck hand carved weather vane, tapping flapping wings with might upward against the stream and stops sudden, a moment, an exhale, perhaps the sun, with effort, tries to warm the day just enough for the brave , to peek out, to partake even just for a split second, top heads poke, gingerly, above the bow, I am swept into this sea – this blend of seasons, a menagerie the rise and fall, the beat and pulse wishes drop like coins into mother’s well the facade of the world surely around invisible and faceless in touch with such bounty.
notes… just a feel thing, a moment, trying to draw the reader into my experience, maybe successful, maybe not, brush strokes against the canvas of reality here in quarantine-ville, the music… starts a little slow, but kicks in around the 2 min mark….
“upon opperman’s pond“ beauty beyond beauty be snow worn on trees witness, jury, frozen pond the slow captured still photo a face of ice milky glass window outlined with banks of snow halted in the cold what now sleeps below forever within this hibernation dirge there remains a joy the indomitable force of life rejoice
a maple leaf landed upon my windshield one, proof that the autumn is still young, wildflowers still in bloom along the roadway as the sun slowly dips into the sinking horizon
notes… to me this is about rhythm… but it came to me as thus, this morning, as I approached my car, my aim is to look up and out to see the world for a few seconds, and take it in, before engaging in the useless rat race in which I’m in